


Obscura ( ON HOLD )

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Adventure, And Then He's..., Don't Like Don't Read, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fandom, First chapter and someone already dies? Shocking, French Characters, French characters - Freeform, Her big brother is the French Government, Mycroft IS the British Government, Mycroft is mentioned in the end, Romance, Secrets, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock is Married to His Work, Sherlocked, Some spy wannabe, The French Government, Virgin Sherlock, What am I going?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-05 09:03:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13384545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A woman has just as much right,to keep secret and veil her body asshe does to lay it bare and reveal it -especially.If she is more difficult to love because of it.- SEGOVIA AMIL -





	1. COVER

  

 

> **OBSCURA**

_A woman has just as much a right_  
_to keep secret and veil her body as_  

_she does to lay it bare and reveal it-_  
_especially._  

_if she is more difficult to love because of it._  

**\- SEGOVIA AMIL -**

 

 

> **"COMING SOON"**


	2. - [ P-R-O-L-O-G-U-E ] -

**\- [ P-R-O-L-O-G-U-E ] -**

_"No, say it again."_

_"La mort regarde dans toutes les directions, aussi curieux qu'une main, avec des yeux aveugles."_

**_(Death gazes in all directions, as curious as a hand, with blind eyes)_ **

_"Ah – good, good almost perfect, almost... You need to sound... gentler. Like a little fluttering bird, but nonetheless, you did well. _**Peu d'oiseau mort**.__

_Straight like a soldier, hands behind her back like her father instructed her to so since she came the age of five. With an unflinching gaze, she waited for her father next orders. Upon queue – her papa turned around, looked down at her. It was a pity that she was still yet a squat for her age._

_  
"Last lesion, a riddle for you to solve, little death bird. "The Father said. The child in return nodded. She loved riddles. It was her preferred sport. Between her and her elder, however, she never participated in a match of riddles with her father. Since her mother was the upper handed one that played such trickery minded games._

_"It brings the lost as though never gone, shines laughter and tears with light long since shone; a moment to make, a lifetime to shed; valued then but lost when you're dead. What is it?"_

_She titled head to the side, eyebrows creased. Doubt clouded her mind. Pictures perhaps? It had to be she thought. No, hmmm... valued them but lost when you're dead. Dead, something about death. Father embodied those things, concepts that involved death. There was something else with the riddle itself. Ah...of course, it almost escaped her mind. It was like a portrait, but a painting stays but a picture, that fades over time. So when you_ _verify_ _it again, you would recall the simplest of things hints of it. She glanced at her father with a smile and readies to answer, and he nodded for her to answer._

_"The - La réponse est simple, les souvenirs"_

_( **The answer is simple, memories**.)_

_In return her father smiled, she was clever like her mother but stubborn like her father. Without a word he turned, rounded around his desk and within the bureau. He gathered a book. An old volume that once belonged to his grandfather. Well – it was a memoir in German. He set the book on the table and with his head he directed his daughter to pick it up and so she did. She took immediate notice of the tittle and then she glance once more at him._

_"And that is your next lesson."_


	3. [ P-A-R-T O-N-E ]

**[ P-A-R-T O-N-E ]**

 

**NEEDLE & THREAD**

_My dark love descends,_

_like needle to thread._

_Darkness, my needle;_

_my body, the thread_

-  **SEGOVIA AMIL**  -


	4. - CHAPTER ONE -

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alas, it starts

**\- CHAPTER ONE -**

....New York 5:30 AM 15th December

There's allotting of people in this world, but all of them fall into the same categories. The good, the Bad and those who collapse, and the middle - she falls right midmost of it. The neutral one, right in the middle of order and chaos.

 _Le gris_  — the gray, her grandfather would repeatedly imply, and he still does till this day and here she was — interfering in such matters. She does not know if she should be illustrious or remorseful of herself. She sighed, the only thing she had been doing these past few days.

Looking up at the foggy mirror, she saw her own father eyes reflecting right back at her - her father dead eyes, she corrected herself. The very eyes she and her elder brother own. The Legacy of what their father left behind before someone decided to assassinate him in cold blood. Presently the entire legacy rested upon the most long-established sibling of the Le Chéreau Family.

Closing her eyes, she breathed once more — She had to be brave, after all, she was accomplishing this as a favor for her family — or more likely some sort of vendetta, she and Lucien — her brother — had planned right after their father funeral.

She shook her head, there was no time to mourn the dead. She has to move on, and continue on with the initial plan. - Dripping of droplets dance across her exposed skin. Her hair wet and moist from the humidity that surrounded the bathroom, it was black as coal; reaching right above her exposed baby ass. Afterwards, there was the chill that remained her that winter was here. That did not disturb her at the slightest nor did she bother to dry herself; or change for that matter.

She hummed to herself, appreciating the slight bite of winter upon her bare skin. She suspected there was an air vent that leads right outside of the hotel room. Turning around she grabbed one of those silked towels that every expensive guest house owned. She wrapped it around her waist, only to laugh at herself. She looked like some young boy trying to hide its privets from the world so he could keep his dignity intact. She shook her head yet again - turned and went to twist the brass knob of the door. Silently she made her way near the luxurious bedstead and decided to lie down upon her unkempt bed.

Her tender lips stretched into a smile - lying on her side. She looked at the cleared window view that overlooked the Brooklyn Bridge.

The crisp, while snow has smothered summer. It appears somebody has laid a sparkling white sheet over that was once summer and put it to bed. Nevertheless, there is beauty in the winter too. The way the snow is sparkling down from the gray clouded sky and floats to the ground with grace and elegance, so pure. But spring must eventually wake up and pull the pale blanket, revealing all the beauty it holds and melting it away the snowy days. It was a marvelous sight. One would never forget.

What a true sight to wake up to, she considered. What a shame, she had to leave so soon.

Luckily she wasn't regretting the absence of anything of tremendous importance. Shifting, she laid her right hand under the pillow - only to halt in her actions. She almost forgot — and her body was undertaking the needed actions without realizing it herself — that there was an unwanted guest in her bed. The person behind her shifted, and she quickly recalled about this trivial detail. After all, she had been paid a vast sum of money, so it was a matter of time. She had to deal with this pest before she could move on to her next target.

She turned around with a smile that didn't reach her eyes, but who would tell the difference between a genuine smile or not? Everyone around her was too ignorant to notice, almost blissfully unaware. With a seductive smile, she purred like a pussycat with cream in its mouth and a mouse between its claws.

"Good morning,  _mon amour_."

She started trailing her hand against his bare chest, in return the said man groaned by the person that was waking him up at this said hour. Then again, he smiled recalling that beautiful bombshell he spent with last night. The cheater turned to look at the said bombshell only to frown when he notices the hair color.

Knotting his brows together in confusion. He was certain that she was... a blond bitch not a black cat. Perhaps he was hallucinating after all this wasn't the first bitch he had brought to bed nor will she be the last.

"Did you enjoy our little adventure, last night?" She purred into his ear and observed with attentive eyes. In so, he shivered in pleasure and she caught it like the black cat she was. He chuckled, then smirked. How typical he thought, it seemed he should earn himself a trophy for giving women a good fuck. "Hmm...It was delightful, my dear. We should do it again sometimes."

In response, she hummed but continued to stare into his brown eyes. They looked plain and bleak, almost dead looking. She smirked again and continued to trail her fingers over his bare chest. While the other silently sneaked under the pillow. She shifted her position just slightly just to make sure she looked appealing for his eyes only, not that it mattered.

 _"Mon pauvre amour, votre vie s'achève dans_   _la misère, tout comme votre patrimoine prend fin avec vous_ _."_

(My poor love, your life shall end in misery, just like your wealth shall end with you.)

The poor sod was about to question her, for he was an idiot and did not understand what language she was speaking. Before he could even open his mouth, she shushed him by placing her index finger upon his parched lips.

"No need to ask, my love." She assured him. With that, she stranded him on his chest, with a smile on her face. Yet, her left hand was behind her back, clinging to a small pistol. Her token, her death kiss. Tilting her head to the side, and she continued to gaze at him, as did he. But his nerves were setting ablaze. "You, my dear. Should ignore my ramblings, also. I have a little gift. A little token for out little ron de vu, we had last night."

He rose a brow in question, only to be met with a gun to his  mouth and with a click he was shot dead right in his jaws. All it left was a gaping hole right then and there, and soon the entire pillow became soaked with his blood. She breathed, rolling her eyes, lifted her left and rolled over to the other side of the bed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for the upcoming future, If the spoke languages, Like the most common French. It shall not be accurate and do not blame me. I do not know French, I only know Italian. I use a translator but not goggle translator of course.


	5. - CHAPTER TWO –

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  I researched a bit and came upon a wiki page of the timeline of Sherlock and it takes place in 2010 and onwards, so the first chapter and this chapter takes place in such era, by so. Technology is a bit limited not like today, where you can just tap screen your phone, back in those days, the screen was some small and still had the button functions. If you understand of course.

_Previously on Obscura....._

_He rose a brow in question, only to be met with a gun to mouth and with a click he was shot dead right in his jaws. All it left was a gaping hole right then and there, and soon the entire pillow became soaked with his blood. She breathed, rolling her eyes, lifted her left and rolled over to the other side of the bed._

**\- CHAPTER TWO –**

 

....New York 6:50 AM 15th December 

"The deed is finally done." She pronounced out loud to herself and stood up from the now soaking red-blooded bed. She did not smile, for she beheld no joy in killing but she had to make due. She stood up right before the blood could reach her bare bosom. After all, she did shower and she was in no mood nor interested to do it again. She crossed her way across the middle of the room.  With a small black sleeked PSS-2 silence pistol — it was a handy pistol, small and easy to use — in her left hand. She hummed to herself. A short poem she had read once before, from an old poetry book that her father had in his office.

  
_My dark love descends._  
like needle to thread.  
Darkness, my needle  
my body, the thread.

She looked around in search of her purse, and soon her gaze halted upon a posh chair in the far corner of the room. Before she could approach near the chair, she stumbled upon a black dress, her black dress. Her eyes narrowed and crinkled her nose in disgust. That barbarian destroyed a perfect attire, that had cost her quite - Well, he was now dead. Her lips grimed into a straight line pressed. She did not wish to call her assistant nor did want to trouble him at this hour but there was no alternative choice.

First of all, she has to contact Mrs. Davies first, then she must deal with the latter matter. Un-clutching her purse, she sneaked her hand in it and fished her phone -Motorola DEXT- out. Looking at it, she spotted something. And this something was not there before, and she knew he tried to access it but for what propose she did not know. 

"Stupide, _garçon mort_ " ("Stupid, dead boy") She hissed. Of course, of course, he tried to do such a thing. The question was, why would he do such a thing? She turned her phone over, calculating everything with narrow eyes. Yes, she knew he was a cheating scum. Which it was not surprising by any means, she knew of such trivia, thanks to her contractor. He was easy to manipulate; She was glad that the fake wig worked, and with a little bit of exposure. Thanks to her two assets. - Her tits.  She had hit the jackpot with a stroke of luck. But, what Mrs. Davies did not know is that he had a string of mistresses’ right at his back and call. With so many mistresses there had to be a bastard or two among the mixes.

  
And there it was - She understood now why she was given the job in the first place. He liked keeping track of the people he had slept with. And he had been frightened something like this would happen someone might tell his not so demure wife of his. Comprehensively, she knew from the start and now he's a dead man.   
Rolling her eyes, she clicked the middle button lighting her phone up, and right on the screen showed the required passcode. She flipped her phone horizontally - and flicked it up, revealing a narrow keyboard. With nimble fingers, she quickly typed her passcode, hence unlocking it. With so, she navigated her way through the content list, until she found the one that was listed under D. With a click. The phone flicked to all the familiar called ID.  
She moved her purse out of the way and sat down crossed legged. She placed her phone near her left ear and patiently waited for the other line to pick up.  
  
"Hello, this is Mrs. Davies assistant, how may I assist you?"  
  
Upon hearing the person on the other line, she strengthened her back.  
  
"Good evening. Is Mrs. Davies available at the moment?"  
  
"Yes, do you wish to speak with her?"  
  
"Obviously..."She told him, and with a guess, this person was someone new; young by the tone of voice. It was a shame that this person did not know who to its job properly. Just before the person could say something, she spoke to him. "Just tell her it's Lotus."

  
"Please hold the line." He told her and she obliged. Swinging her feet slowly, in an unsynchronized rhythm. Without caring if Mrs. Davies picked up or not, she quickly sent a message to her assistant. So she would bring her, fresh attire she could wear. Since her dress was torn apart and boy this person... Genuinely he had zero patience to get her laid in bed. Also, if he was clever which he was not. He would even have known he was drugged in the first place.

  
"I presume you have completed your work...Lotus." The other woman spoke, who was and now is the late wife of Mr. Davies. Who is now, deceased on 15th December at six o'clock on the dot. "Of course, mon cher. Just like you requested. Eyes open. Mouth agape like he just had his last sex."

  
"You're hesitating..." She sang, and at the same time, she gazed at the whole room. It was... clean, too swept. For her liking. Well - minus the bed and the person that laid dead upon the soaked bed. She smirked, she could picture her now. Her right hand, trembling. She could tell by her phone - it kept making that rustling sound in her ear. 

  
_What have I done?_  
What have I done?  
What have I done?

  
That is what Mrs. Davies was thinking at this very moment like many others thought or said out loud. She genuinely didn't mind. She cared the job was done. In return, she cared about the needed things, the money, and the documents. After all, this person, who was Mrs. Davies was quite persistent about it. First get the job done, then acquire the things she wanted. She was clever, unlike her late husband. Her eyes went up, then to the side, typical she thought again.

  
"Hear me out, joues douces. I've done this, millions of times. Over and over. People like you hire me. To do their bidding, I became so custom to it; it became a spinning wheel of webs and lies.” Lotus told her - Lifting, her hand in the air and gestured in the wind like she was jesting a crowd. “In return, these people would always - Well, half of them to be precise. Would be dumb enough to try and find me or even worse, alert the police about me. Which would never work in the first place; then these people get either shot or killed. And basically no win for both ends."

  
"I'm aware," Mrs. Davies began. “I, however, am not. Many women. I gave you a contract, and you had dealt with it excellently. And as promised. I'm going to send you the money, and the files you needed. “The woman coughed, clearing her throat for what she was assuredly and approximately to tell her next.” It was undeniably a pleasure, Lotus. If that is your name even... In the future do be careful, dear. I don't wish you to end up in some ill-managed government facility. Your work is helpful for many people, even for a small descent fee." 

  
Thus, Mrs. Davies did look her up - not her real, real self. But a sole page that was filled with information, along with a thousand of other people like her and not. Hers, naturally, was cleverly hidden amongst the many, and yet many found her because and, of course. She only asked them a negligible amount of money and some little necessary information that they would only crave. The miracles of the deep web.

  
She frowned - when she realized. What Mrs. Davies said, the government. Why would some government want with her? After all - She smirked, no one would even try to capture her, nor would they establish her in some facility.

  
Of course. If such things do happen. There would always be her big brother to the rescue. He - Her brother was a part of the said government, well. He was the government, the French rule to be exact.

  
"And why should I, be careful of the regime dear?"

"I really...I am not supposed to... Speak about this, but..." Mrs. Davies halted in her words. She wasn't confident if she should distribute such information, being aware of what tremendous danger she could inflict upon herself and her family. But, she did. "One of the files. That I'm about to send you...There is information. Sensitive information about England. They repress an entire content of the British government, and if that, somewhat get leaked. I could get into serious trouble. Which means he or they would make sure that my life would seize to exist, and then he will persuade you afterward, and he will win."

"Oh don't worry Mrs. Davies, I'll make sure. Such things remain as they are, discreet. I did what you ask and that is it. We don't know each other and that is final."  She assured her 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If by, any chance, there is really bad, bad grammer. I am deeply sorry. I am not really good at English, and mostly these things are more likely conjured in my mind. And not written down. So do excuse me in the future.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh golly gosh, this is something I would never do in a million years, but here I am in 2018 doing it anyway and not giving shit about others at last.  
> Hope you shall enjoy it, it may take time to upload it because of work and I'm a sloth..


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